Heavy the Crown
by DaphneRunning
Summary: Yukimura Seiichi has always been a force on his life, drawing him in, shaping his destiny. Sanada Genichirou wants nothing more than to be worthy of that.


Meeting new people isn't easy for Sanada. He gets nervous, and they get bored before he can work up the courage to say everything he needs to. Grandfather is working with him on it, emphasizing thoughts before speech, and Sanada is slowly starting to get the hang of it.

That doesn't make him any less tongue-tied when Father brings him to work meetings, to business lunches, to the club to show off his fine strong young boy. There are rarely other children present. When there are others, they sit properly with their parents, mastering something that he still yet hasn't, and that makes him more frustrated still.

"Hi."

This one smiles, bright and easy, so sudden that Sanada can't help but shrink back. His father will have none of it, and urges him to _go play_. There's no chance, when the other child (boy? Girl? Seiichi is a boy's name, but…) takes his hand, leading him to a tennis court. Sanada doesn't know how to play tennis, but every time he hits the ball, Seiichi smiles, sometimes laughs, and Sanada knows for the first time what it's like to try with all his might.

He loses all of their practice matches, but every time Seiichi laughs, Sanada feels like a winner.

It's two months before Seiichi makes him cry for the first time. Instead of making fun of him, the other boy (definitely a boy, he's been sure for a while now) takes his hand and leads him to get an ice cream, ignoring his protests that he doesn't like sweets. The ice cream tastes good anyway, and Seiichi's hand is soft and strong in his own.

"Game, Sanada! Six games to zero!"

It's his first juniors tournament, and Sanada looks at his racket as if he's never seen it before. In the stands, his grandfather looks proud, if a little stunned.

"I won?" It doesn't seem to make sense, and he tries to explain to his opponent, "But I've never won before."

An hour later, he watches Yukimura destroy his opponent without dropping a single point.

_How long have we been good?_

From the way Yukimura looks pleased with himself, but not surprised, Sanada has a mild suspicion that he's the only one who hadn't known just how good his only tennis partner until now really is.

Sometimes Sanada wishes they'd gone to the same elementary school. There's an appeal to thinking about how Seiichi could eat lunch with him and Renji, practice on the tennis courts with him every day, steal his snacks and try to work with him on group projects like he _knows_ Seiichi would.

Then he thinks that he'd have to see Seiichi surrounded by boys and girls all the time, laughing because of something someone else said, not being his own special friend, and maybe it's better that they're at separate schools for now.

"First place, Yukimura Seiichi! Second place, Sanada Genichirou! Third place, Yanagi Renji!"

"Are you angry?"

Renji's quiet question takes Sanada aback. He looks over at Yukimura's beaming face as the arbiter puts a medal around his neck. "Don't be stupid."

"I've decided I'm coming to middle school with you."

Sanada shoulders Yukimura's tennis bag as well as his own without thinking. It just makes sense; Yukimura has a lot of bulky art supplies, and it's difficult for him to manage that as well as the tennis bag. He might not have them with him _today_, but habit is hard to break.

"Are you sure? Kanagawa-chu is farther from your house."

"No, I'm going to Rikkai. You are, too."

It isn't, Sanada explains to his father that night, head pressed to the tatami mat in the lowest bow he knows, as if he hadn't _wanted_ to go to Rikkai all along, and yes, he knows it's an inconvenience.

Yukimura calls him sometimes when he's painting. If he isn't busy, Sanada goes to his house, and sometimes Yukimura gives him a sketch to take home. Today, Sanada presses the house phone between his ear and shoulder, listening to Yukimura plan tennis strategies as he does math homework.

After an hour, his mother takes the phone, apologizes to "Whoever is on the other end," as if she doesn't know, and hangs it up before making a phone call. When she's through, she hands the phone back.

She peers over his shoulder, catching sight of the sketch of himself, signed by Yukimura with one of Sanada's calligraphy pens that he's not so good at using. She sighs, ruffles his hair, and mutters to herself, "At least your brother is giving me grandchildren."

"Maybe we are Japanese, but we can still smile!" the photographer fairly begs. Sanada isn't interested.

"We're really the kings, now," Yukimura says, eyes shining. "Not just Rikkai, but the three of us." He reaches over and squeezes Sanada's hand for a moment, then smiles for the picture.

Sanada can't smile, not yet. He's too busy thinking about softness, strength, and tennis callouses.

When the camera is put away, Yukimura tugs on his hand again, whispering, "Hold up the trophy."

"Why?" Sanada asks, and obeys anyway.

"So your hands are busy."

"Wh—"

Yukimura kisses him, a _real_ kiss, that Sanada can tell from the look in his eyes isn't supposed to be a friend thing. He flushes bright red, but before he can bolt, Yukimura takes his hand again. Sanada shoulders the other boy's tennis bag as if nothing has changed, and they _almost_ make it all the way to Yukimura's house before ducking into an alcove to kiss again.

Grandfather isn't pleased with how much time Sanada spends on tennis now. Telling him that he uses kendo techniques in tennis doesn't help.

Beating Tezuka Kunimitsu would have helped, but at least his grandfather takes that loss as enough of a reason for revenge that he starts shoving him towards tennis practice.

Sanada feels like a king for the first time when they run club sign-ups. Everyone wants to join, to be part of the magic, to be a king. Sanada knows, and he likes it.

He also likes weeding out the unworthy. Yukimura stays his hand over and over again, when he would have weeded out a redhead for being "too bouncy" and his friend for "not being Japanese enough." He fights a little harder when it comes to a clown who refuses to put down his given name, with a non-regulation hairstyle and a cocky swagger.

Yukimura says no. Yukimura thinks Niou is _funny_.

Not for the first time, Sanada reflects that Yukimura doesn't always have great taste.

Sanada grudgingly admits that practices are more fun when Niou is around. Yukimura pats his head.

"Sanada."

That's usually all Yukimura needs to say to call him back. Once, Niou quips, "Go on, puppy, heel."

The sound of the slap rings out across the tennis courtyard. Yukimura doesn't repeat his name, and Niou doesn't seem too phased.

The school festival is a huge success. This is the Rikkai that Sanada had always dreamed of being part of. They're tennis champions, dramatic stars, local heroes, all because they're the smartest, most talented, most dedicated boys around.

Nothing can stop them, and Yukimura has a smile that he saves just for Sanada, between soft kisses and eager little breaths.

China is an experience.

Sanada isn't 100% in favor of experiences; the older he gets, the more he wants to practice those things he already loves, to hone skills into art, to sit in seiza for hours practicing his calligraphy. He's spent four weeks composing a poem, which doesn't matter, because he's never going to give it to Yukimura anyway, and even if he did, Yukimura would laugh at him.

(That probably isn't true, but it's been nearly a year since Yukimura has made him cry, and Sanada wants to keep it that way. It's always more damaging when it comes from Yukimura.)

Personal space, apparently, is a Japanese and not Chinese thing, something Sanada notes with displeasure, seeing how _crowded_ everything is as they travel. It's better when they practice, but they're bedded down several to a room, and Sanada just _knows_ that Niou probably snores.

When Yukimura twists over into his bed, nuzzling against his neck and talking about this year's lineup, Sanada doesn't mind being crowded. Maybe that's hypocrisy.

Yukimura's hand in his is cool, not his usual warm strength, but Sanada says nothing. China is exhilarating, but Yukimura's been tiring himself out, and he's probably overstimulated. He gets like that sometimes.

Yukimura also doesn't wear his scarf properly when they get back to Japan, something Sanada is compelled to fix. "You'll catch your death of cold," he scolds, tucking Yukimura in gently, making sure the ends are secure so it doesn't fall artfully open again.

That familiar smile beams up at him, even though Yukimura is shivering. "Thank you, Mother."

"If your mother were here, she'd tell you that you're cold because you don't wear your clothes properly, _and_ because you didn't eat a proper breakfast this morning! The reigning champion shouldn't be putting his rice and toast into a napkin, Yukimura."

"I like it better when you're Akaya's angry father. Being my mother doesn't suit you."

Sanada's eyes narrow. "What if you catch something? I don't think being ill would suit you."

"You're right about that," Yukimura remarks dryly, and takes his hand for a brief squeeze. "Sanada, I want to eat your bento tomorrow."

"Eh?"

"Don't half-ass the job of being my mother. Oh, and no meat." Yukimura shudders slightly. "After China, no meat for a while. Maybe ever."

Yukimura is probably joking, but Sanada makes him a bento anyway. Come lunchtime, Yukimura's desk is empty but for his chopsticks and his expectant gaze, as if he'd known Sanada would come through for him the whole time.

Yukimura's body collapses. Not Yukimura, but his body, because Yukimura would never be so weak. Sanada hears himself shouting for an ambulance, but that takes too long when Yukimura's body has apparently _given up_. He doesn't weigh enough, doesn't feel like he weighs anything at _all _when Sanada lifts him.

Maybe that's just because Sanada can't think of anything but getting Yukimura to the hospital fixing what's wrong, because every plan he has for the future involves Yukimura not being _like this_.

"They still have a lot of tests to run," Yukimura's father says quietly, standing by his son's hospital bed. "You boys should run back to school for now. I'll let you know when he's awake."

It doesn't feel right.

The next day, Yukimura is awake and high-strung, and the nurses have trouble keeping him in bed. He snaps at Sanada for putting him in the hospital, and tries to demand a daring escape, which he does not receive (though only because Sanada stops Niou before that idea gets too far).

"Is this what you call practice in my absence?" Yukimura demands, though the smile says he's joking. He looks like his old self on the court, even if Sanada can see now everything he hadn't wanted to see, the trembling (_surely he's just chilled, not an ounce of fat on him_), the weight loss (_China just doesn't agree with him_), the trembling of his hands (_also cold, or from practicing so much_).

It doesn't matter. Sanada grips his hand, feeling just a shadow of his former strength, but Yukimura's nonetheless. _I'll be all the strength you need_, he swears to himself, and knows Yukimura can hear his meaning. _Until you're back to your old self._

"Sanada-kun!"

The girl is breathless, excited, and runs to his side to grab his hand, which is more startling than just about anything that's happened to Sanada in at least a month.

"I'm glad I found you!" she says, enthused as she comes to stand face to face with him. "I got your confession."

"I-you _what?_"

"It was beautiful! All that about how you've watched me from afar, and secretly hoped that—"

Sanada catches the flash of a rattail from behind a tree.

"_NIOU MASAHARU!_"

"Good thing he's back," Kirihara says, scrubbing furiously at a spot of soup he'd spilled on his tie. "Sanada is the best vice-captain, but not the best captain. Ah, don't hit me!"

"I wasn't going to. You're right."

"Those doctors aren't too great if they can't even tell what's wrong," Kirihara scoffs, giving up on his tie and stuffing it in his pocket. "I mean, he got better even before they finished their stupid blood tests."

"Akaya, hush," Renji murmurs, maybe seeing the tension in the way Sanada grips the strap of his backpack.

"Huh? Why?"

"Nothing," Sanada rumbles, and puts a hand on Kirihara's shoulder. "Show the captain that swing you were working on."

"Yeah!"

After he runs off, Sanada folds his arms, not looking at Renji. "You don't think it's over."

Renji doesn't answer.

The next time he winds up in the hospital, Yukimura tries to keep it quiet. His mother claims that he's got the flu, natural around test season, and Sanada takes over for practice.

But no one else has the flu, and Yukimura doesn't hang around with anyone besides the tennis team. Sanada stops by the Yukimura house to deliver his schoolwork, and the tired, wan expression on his mother's face tells him everything he needs to know.

"Promise me, Sanada."

Sanada bends, placing a firm kiss to the back of a trembling hand with an IV taped inside. He hands over a piece of calligraphy he'd done on hand-pressed paper, kanji for _good health_ laid gently on Yukimura's rising, falling chest. "I promise. As long as you don't hide it from _me_."

Sanada's not sure he's ever wanted to hit someone so much as Niou. "He's just _not here_. Run your laps."

"Naaah."

Sanada grabs for his rattail, which comes off in his hand as Niou skips easily away. "Whoa, too slow, fukubuchou. Maybe next time. Puri."

The next time he visits Yukimura, he catches sight of what looks like Niou slipping out of the hospital, and Yukimura is amused by a new book of trick paintings, whatever that means. Niou obviously expects a slap the next day, but Sanada ignores him save for a long look.

Sanada does most of the active coaching these days, but that's fine, Yukimura is still the brains behind it all.

He does most of Yukimura's homework, but only on the days Yukimura's hand has trouble with the pen. "It's going away," Yukimura insists. "It's better today than yesterday."

_But not better than last week_.

Sometimes, he finds Yukimura sleeping on the rooftop when he should be in class. His attempts to yell are half-hearted at best, until they die off completely.

"I'm just trying to sleep off the last bit of it," Yukimura insists. "If I don't push too hard right now, it'll be gone in no time. I'm young and healthy, this should be no problem for my body. It's going away, I promise."

Sanada misses when Yukimura only made promises he could keep.

Sanada loses his temper in November.

Convinced for a few good days (that are rapidly starting to dwindle in the face of the bad ones) that he's cured, Yukimura had challenged him to a match, only to get furious and start accusing Sanada of holding back.

"You're better than this!" he spits. "And if you're not, you're off the team! Attack like fire! That's an order!"

Sanada hits a ball at full strength, and Yukimura's racket clatters to the ground.

"Fine," Sanada says, and makes to walk off the court.

"Wait! Get back on there." Yukimura straightens up, knee wobbling, and serves the ball.

They've gathered an audience at some point, and with every ball hit back at him, Sanada gets more and more angry. Yukimura is barely standing, racket trembling, swaying on his feet, but refuses to let Sanada leave. "Again," he demands, or "Harder, at your full strength!"

In the fourth game, Yukimura falls to the ground, and this time, doesn't get up. Sanada hurries to his side, and Yukimura shoves him away. "I can do it _myself_, I don't need—"

Sanada's hand flies back before he realizes it, and the sharp crack of flesh on flesh makes everyone around blanch.

"Stop pushing yourself!" he thunders, as Yukimura blinks up at him with wibbling, watery eyes. "You're going to _kill_ yourself at this rate, because you won't admit you need _help_, and _then_ where will we be?"

From the stands, he can hear Kirihara ask, "Yanagi, is he still sick?"

Full of bitterness that Sanada can almost taste, Yukimura takes his hand to stand up. It doesn't feel warm and strong, it feels brittle and aged, skin like paper and cool to the touch.

Yukimura doesn't really have good days anymore.

Neither does Sanada.

"You just get well. We'll bring home your trophy, and we'll be here in time for your surgery."

Yukimura's smile is wan, face drawn. At least Sanada can make sure that his chances of getting a trophy today are higher than of surviving the surgery.

It doesn't make him feel too much better.

"Akaya lost to that guy?"

Sanada has to admire the strength and tenacity in this boy. At least, any other day, he would admire his strength and tenacity. The boy is talented, well-trained, and full of fighting spirit. Any other day, Sanada would want to talk to him, find out where he'd learned all of that, give him a few pointers on the finer points of Muga that he obviously doesn't understand. After all, the boy has only Tezuka for a captain, so he can't be expected to know too much.

Marui and Jackal win, as they should. It isn't the quick 6-0 match he wants, but he'll take it.

An hour and a half until Yukimura goes under the knife. It's a dangerous procedure. Like as not, that smile Yukimura gave him in the hospital room will be the last one he ever sees.

Niou and Yagyuu have to work for their win.

One hour. Sanada feels the tight knot of anxiety curling in his belly, more tightly by the minute. At least he can trust Yanagi.

He'll never trust Yanagi to win a match again. Seigaku is celebrating, thrilled with their win.

Half an hour. At least Akaya knows what's at stake, and promises to go quickly.

Seigaku believe in their genius.

Sanada wonders what Fuji Shuusuke is fighting for.

In the end, it's better that they're all gone. At least no one else needs to see the greatest failure of his life.

_Has he died yet? What does it look like, the mass they're carving out of his spine, the thing that has ruined every life it's touched? Is he unconscious, or is he in pain? Is he as afraid as I am?_

Maybe if he hadn't been thinking like that, he'd have won.

Sanada doesn't apologize with his head to the floor.

He doesn't deserve forgiveness.

"Sanada."

For a moment, the word has its old meaning, Yukimura's old strength in it. Sanada obeys.

Maybe if he can win this match, if he can make up for all the _failure_, they can become a team worth playing for once again, become a team worthy of their captain once again.

Sanada wonders what Echizen Ryouma would think, if he could play Yukimura at his true strength, un-medicated, without muscles weakened by a year of disease and atrophy.

He wonders, even as Yukimura refuses his help to return to his seat no matter how his knees shake, if the boy would be laughing so loud.

It's not until he returns from the mountain that Yukimura looks at him like his old self. Maybe now, covered in grime and bites and bruises, he's finally earned some absolution.

Yukimura smiles, that secret smile just for him, and takes his hand, warm and strong.


End file.
